


Strangers Or More

by LaBoiteDePandore



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 20:17:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20315419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBoiteDePandore/pseuds/LaBoiteDePandore
Summary: They've met already - long ago, before the plague came. He knew her - long ago, before she died and got burnt. She looks at him - right now, and right now they are strangers to each other.  But... Are they strangers or more?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Strangers Or More](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20257819) by [LaBoiteDePandore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBoiteDePandore/pseuds/LaBoiteDePandore). 

> Thanks to @flutter_field and @aureliu_s for being my beta readers!

_ “Don’t touch me!” _

_ She froze. _

_ “Okay, I won’t,” - her pale hands soared up, palms out. He didn’t see it, but he knew – a thin scar snaked there, above the right elbow. And another one, more wide, more uneven, on the right shoulder, descending to the shoulder blade. _

_ He shook his head and tried to reach the deer, but pain, piercing his side, made him moan. _

_ “Let me help!” _

“_I don’t need any help from _ ** _you_ ** _ .” _

_ Looking into her surprised, bewildered and stubborn eyes the color of young spring grass, he understood: she wouldn’t leave. Lucio was stubborn, but _ ** _this_ ** _ girl could easily compete with him. _

Muriel hated Coliseum. He hated Lucio. He hated his clothes, in black and red, which “should bolster his ferocity,” according to Lucio. Muriel hated to kill, and he hated his rivals too – just because he _ had _ to kill them.

But, most of all he hated himself.

For his inability to resist Lucio.

For putting Asra in danger.

For the rage that blinded him during the fight.

For the red mist that blanketed his eyes, when he became, according to the same Lucio, "a real gladiator."

Because of it, he didn’t always remember how he left the Coliseum.

And later one more item was added to this list: for almost killing a young doctor, whom Lucio had sent to deal with his wounds.

Lucio cared for him, oh yes, as one did for a sword or axe. He sent his doctor to him to heal and bandage his wounds, if Muriel had been getting hell - not that this happened often, it was rare that an opponent managed to wound him. Oh yes, Lucio also cared about Muriel’s weapons – he never tired of reminding that his axe, his _ butcher’s axe _, should be sharpened and perfectly balanced. And one day, when they forgot or maybe didn’t have time to sharpen it – all weaponry workers disappeared. Muriel preferred not to think about what had happened to them, to people who dared to make Lucio angry.

He became used to Lucio’s talkative fat doctor: to his bouncing gait, to his sweaty wet hands, to his bleating voice – he was so scared and always babbling nonsense while he put the uneven stitches in Muriel’s wounds with shaking hands. One day Lucio probably decided that palace doctor shouldn’t fiddle with the gladiator – or, maybe, it was the doctor who persuaded Lucio to find someone else for this risky work.

And it _ was _ risky. And almost turned out to be the last job for the new doctor – for the young girl with green eyes the color of the young spring grass.

For sure, Lucio didn’t tell her about rage that seized him, - oh, was it worth mentioning such a trifle? For sure, Lucio didn’t tell her that she should approach him slowly and cautiously. What did the Count say to her, actually, how did he make her to go to the dusty arena, that smelled of sweat and blood, with the dead bodies, lying there, which had not even been removed yet?

Muriel didn’t know that. He also didn’t know that the small figure, approaching him so fast, is a doctor, not the late rival. Moaning through his teeth, he got up heavily – this time, after all, he was injured badly – and somehow indifferently thought that Lucio was gone mad, sending a woman against him.

Muriel didn’t see her face, didn’t notice how she was dressed – the red mist still blanketed his eyes and the hate still boiled in his blood – he only felt magic that began concentrating around her. His body reacted itself: forgetting the wounds, he rushed to her with a swift jerk and grabbed her by the throat – it seems, he could break her neck with just one finger – and then he threw her back like a rag doll, just like Asra occasionally did several years ago (for ages ago, it seems). And only then, just before the throw, he met her gaze – he met her surprised and bewildered eyes. 

She fell on a pile of debris, raising dust and sand in the air, and when Muriel – already surprised himself – found her with his gaze, she lay on her stomach, awkwardly bending her arm under her, and blood flowed down her back. And although rage left him at the sight of a thin stream of blood flowing down her hand into the sand, he didn’t remember how he got to his hut and what the angry Lucio shouted after him.

* * *

_ “I know who you are.” _

_ Again, this surprise in her eyes, these bewilderedly frowning brows. He almost didn’t listen to her explaining about her amnesia, about three years that she only remembered. Why? _

_ “I know that, too.” _

_He felt her curious look on himself while she washed the blood from his body, and he tried to sit firmly, though all he wanted was to push her away, to order her not to touch him, to drive her out the door_ _so that she could forget about his existence. Her touch made him tremble and clench his fists, forcing himself to sit calmly._

“_I’ll heal you now, ok?” _

After that time, Lucio didn’t call him for quite some time – Muriel managed to recover from his wounds and found out (not without the help of Asra, of course) that the girl had survived, and everything was fine with her. He even began to hope that after this Lucio would forget about him, but that was too naive.

Staying on the arena and looking into wolf’s sad yellow eyes, Muriel somehow remembered another’s eyes – surprised and bewildered, that he dreamed sometimes after the last fight. He expected the animal to attack, and understood that it would be not so easy to deal with it: wolf was huge, nearly the human height. Lucio eagerly shouted something about cowardice from his seat, shouted that Muriel should kill the beast, and the crowd was noisy, and the wolf ... just sat in its open cage and looked at him. And it was only when he came closer that Muriel saw that it was starving, its fur was dirty and there was wound on its paw – and then he couldn’t stand it.

He didn’t hear, what Lucio shouted to him, he didn’t hear, what the crowd chanted while he cut a path through the Coliseum – for himself, for_ them _. The blood pounded in his ears, and all was blurry before his eyes – it was a sure sign of approaching rage, and this time the rage was directed at him, at Lucio. Muriel knew that this wouldn’t lead to anything good – if he killed Lucio, the city, perhaps, would breathe freely, but then what? He might be executed on the spot, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing. But what if they came for Asra? And he continued to chop the thick wood gates – with all his rage, all his hatred, all his despair; continued to chop it with his perfectly balanced and sharpened butcher axe.

When he found himself at the doors of his hut, the wolf was still with him. There was no one behind them, and Muriel breathed a sigh of relief, but immediately felt the panic. What would happen now? Lucio wouldn’t leave him alone, he’d find him, he’d make him fight again, more violently this time. And what… what if he will hurt Asra? The wolf licked his hand – exhausted, weak, barely holding on its feet – and Muriel decided that he would do anything to not return the arena. Before letting the wolf in the hut, he thought that it would be perfect if all the people just forgot about him for good.


	2. Chapter 2

_ “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” _

_ “What sort of things?” _

_ “What’s your favorite animal?” _

_ Her questions cornered him. They were such a childish, simple, and she looked at him with amusement and curiosity, and he just didn’t know what to say. _

_“Stop asking weird questions.” _

That very evening the hut door opened – Muriel expected for Asra, but instead of him he saw… that girl. She looked at him with warily but without fear, and it was he who was petrified, frozen to the floor, where he sat near the fireplace.

“Lucio sent me,” she said. “He’s not angry with you. Well… not anymore. He said you must be prepared for the next fight.”

A small bottle of golden liquid appeared from the spacious bag, and when she came closer and put the bottle on the table, he smelled a faint raspberry scent.

“Lucio said you needed something to recover your strength. And I barely found your home.”

“I don’t need anything,” he said. The girl raised an eyebrow a little and looked at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

“I won’t leave until you drink it,” she said. “The best way is to add it to the tea. I spent all evening parsing the recipe, so do it. Drink it.”

She put her bag on the table, pulled out a chair and sat with her arms crossed on her chest. Muriel understood that she would not leave until she reached her goal. He sighed and got up awkwardly, rubbing his neck. Sat up on the bed. Sighed. Gathered his thoughts.

“I don’t need this.”

Instead of answering she pushed the bottle towards him.

“How are you going to fight? Lucio said you were weak.”

Was it just him or… there was disgust in her voice? He looked up at her and saw that she was looking at an axe thrown in a corner, - with disgust, almost with hatred.

“I’m not going to fight. I’m not going to kill,” he said.

“Aha. You didn’t kill anyone, did you? Never. Not once.”

Muriel scowls.

“I won’t kill anymore. You can say that to Lucio.”

Saying this was more difficult than he expected, and he felt the panic overtake him again.

“Oh? Where does such a humanity come from?” her mocking voice distracted him. Muriel looked at girl incomprehensibly. She was weird – she was not scared of him, she looked right in his eyes with this unreadable face. And though he felt a wave of hostility and contempt emanating from her, but there was not any bit of fear – and this after what he did to her.

“I have never wanted to kill. You can ask Lucio why I did this.”

The last words burst through his teeth along with the anger that began to boil in him. All of this was too recently, too close; just a few hours before, he’d gritted his teeth in rage – and now it was returning.

“I’m asking you.”

“Go away.”

“No. Drink it.”

Muriel clenched his fists so that he thought he would pierce his palms through. Well, if she didn’t want to leave, then it would be him who left. It was dangerous to stay near her; he was afraid that he would not be able to control himself, that he would fall apart again, that he would hurt her — _ again _. But when he stood up and rushed to the door, she was already there.

Scowling, crossing her hands on her chest, lifting her head belligerently - she stood there, and in her eyes he saw that she wouldn’t budge.

* * *

_ "He killed the Heart of The Forest.” _

_ “The Heart of The Forest?” _

_ “Dead deer, there in the forest. It is supposed to be the guardian of the forest. Keep it safe. And now it’s dead, and I couldn’t save it.” _

_ “This isn’t your fault.” _

_ “It’s dead. I had to save it. That sounds like my fault.” _

_ When she repeated that it wasn’t his fault, he looked up on her, surprised by the anger in her voice. She looked at him – angrily and indignantly. _

_“That’s Lucio’s fault,” she said, and he realized that she wasn’t angry with him, but with Lucio. _

“Get out of my way.”

The girl kept silent. She stood stock-still in front of the damned door, kept silent and looked at him with her sharp, piercing eyes. Muriel took a deep breath and clenched his fists.

“Please. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh?” she said. “And when you tried to kill me, you also didn’t want to hurt me? Just ... kill me, painlessly, right?”

Muriel staggered back from her, feeling shame, fear, guilt ... but not the fury that seemed to recede before the rest of her feelings. How could he explain to her so that she understood?

He sat on the bed and covered his face with his hands, gathering his thoughts.

“I-I didn’t want to… I didn’t know who you are, I didn’t see…”

“You did a great job being the blind.”

“No… No, wait. I… I really didn’t want to hurt you. I mean I _ did _ want, but…”

He stopped midsentence being absolutely confused. She kept silent too, never leaving her place at the door, and Muriel felt her gaze burning a hole in him.

And he could not stand it. He told her. Everything. About this rage and fury, and how he hated the Coliseum and Lucio, and why he continues fighting, and why he continues killing. And that he won’t return there again.

When he looked up at her, discouraged by the silence, she sat at the table, her chin in her hands, looking at the fire in the fireplace. He saw the scar – fresh, reddish, coming down from under the short sleeve to the elbow, and he hated himself once again.

“You _ are _ the killer. You killed before the Coliseum.”

What?

He raised his eyes on her, opened his mouth about to say something, and shut it immediately. She looked at him with such a piercing gaze as if she could see right through him – and Muriel realized that there was something more behind that weird question, something bothered her, made her feel pain.

“What are you talking about?”

“You are from the South, aren’t you?”

“How do you know?” before that Muriel didn’t think that he could be so surprised. But it seems this girl decided to prove to him that he was wrong.

“You killed family there. With your axe. Will you deny it?”

He shook his head.

“It’s ridiculous. I don’t know why do you…”

“Don’t you lie to me!”

He didn’t expect such a burst of anger from her. He didn’t expect her rush to him. Didn’t expect her spit out these words in his face. Didn’t expect her to grab him by the shoulders and shake him – well, try to shake him. And maybe that's why he grabbed her hands more tighter than he should, without calculating his strength. She hissed, recoiling from him and struggling to break free of his grip, and Muriel – scared, confused – could only watch the bruises pouring on the pale skin of her wrists.

“You killed my parents! You told about it by yourself, you told how you killed them, and I know everything!”

Her voice broke and she fell into a chair, rubbing her wrists and with her head bowed.

“I have never killed anyone,” he said slowly, trying to break through her anger and despair. “Never. Before I met Lucio. I was born in the South, but I left it as a child. Do you hear me?”

She looked up at him with disbelief.

“A child?”


	3. Chapter 3

_ “No.” _

_ He looked at her with some kind of awe and the time seemed to freeze. Here, she did the step and stood before him – a year has passed. Here, she stubbornly bent her head a little and moved her fingers, calling the magic – two years have passed. Here, the ruffians burst out laughing and said something that he didn’t hear – three years have passed. _

_ “Wh-What are you doing?” _

_ She didn’t turn to him, warily watching the ruffians. _

_ “I’m protecting us.” _

She believed him. Muriel didn’t understand why she believed him, but she did, and now she sat at the table, clutching a cup of hot tea as if her life depended on it. He sat opposite, looking at her hands – a moment ago she removed bruises left from his fingers in one motion. He hurt her. Again.

“My name is Lynn.”

He flinched in surprise when she broke the silence.

“Muriel. This is Inanna.”

“So, you ran away with her?”

Muriel nodded and stroked wolf’s head. His eyes found the bottle with the potion, still standing on the table.

“If I give her that potion, will she recover faster?” he asked, opening the cork gently.

“Do you still think that it’s a medicine?” Lynn grunted, taking the bottle from him carefully.

Muriel tensed when her fingers touched his hand: after all he has done to her, he was afraid that her only touching could make him hurt her again.

“Is this a poison?”

“I don’t know how he managed to convince me,” she said. “Rather, I know, but…”

Lynn sighed and felt to silence. Stroking Inanna’s head, Muriel patiently waited while she found the right words.

“He sounded so earnest,” she said finally. “I’ve never encountered him before, and then… Some man has appeared, Brand or Brond, I don’t remember. He was fat and nervous. He said the Count wanted me at the palace. How did he even find about me?”

“That… man. The small one? With the bouncing gait?”

She nodded.

“He is Lucio’s doctor. He… used to bandage me. Sutured my wounds, sometimes,” Muriel said grudgingly.

“Sorry, but he did a shit job,” she said looking at his scars.

“He was scared,” Muriel shrugged.

Lynn snorted, and Muriel was sure he knew what she was thinking:  _ you nearly killed him too? _

“Anyways, Lucio offered me a job. He said, everyone knows that I healed well and so on… He said, the job isn’t hard, I just need to heal his favorite gladiator from time to time, because his doctor is tired.”

“So… You are a healer.”

“The damned good one,” she answered. Without boasting, just stating a fact. “If it was me who healed you,  _ these _ scars wouldn’t be an option. ...Well… After you… After that time when you… Anyways, I woke up in the palace, there was my friend who healed me, and Lucio. He said, it was an accident and if I still didn’t change my mind, his offering remained valid.”

She shrugged.

“I didn’t change my mind. He promised me a good money, and I wanted to deal with my house, and… So, he sent for me a carriage today, after lunch. He portrayed the sympathy so talentedly, he staged a whole performance – said that it was my friend who told him about me, and that I was from the South, and that my parents were killed, and that he was so, so, so sorry. He said that it was you who killed them, and that you were killer before becoming gladiator. And that you were from the South too, and that you told him how you killed the family near the Tarske, there was such a forest, you know? I was pissed off, and he apologized for not checking, and now it’s probably painful for me, and “ooooh, I feel for you soooo much, but he is a beast, he will never chaaaange, I can only keep him in check on the arena, oooooh, you pooor little thiiing”… And… Here we are,” she nodded at the bottle.

“He was right in one thing,” Muriel said. “I’m dangerous.”

It seemed to him that Lynn didn’t hear him – biting her lip, she looked at him with an anxious and thoughtful expression.

“I wonder when Lucio will decide to check how I did the deed?” she asked. “I could not find you. Or change my mind. Or you could… neutralize me.”

“You mean... kill you.”

“To kill me,” she agreed after the pause.

A few more minutes of silence. Muriel practically saw her thoughts jump feverishly. Oddly enough, but he didn’t care – if Lucio killed him… well, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“If I were an impatient narcissistic bastard, I would like to check how my favorite toy is doing as early as possible,” her voice made him jump.

“Then go away.”

“You will go with me. We should hide you until we find a way.”

“No. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m  _ already _ in danger,” she grinned sadly. “If he doesn’t find your dead body, he will realize that you didn’t drink anything.”

Oh great. Wonderful. As if he lacked any concern for Asra. Meanwhile, Lynn walked around the cabin, absentmindedly examining the modest furnishing.

“Let’s do it. He won’t looking for you at my place. Let him decide that you are gone, and meanwhile I… I will ask Asra for help, he is a good magician, and maybe we’ll come up with something.”

“Do you know Asra?” his throat became dry from surprise. Just… how? How is this possible?

“He is a friend of mine I mentioned before,” she said. “Do you know him, too?”

“He is a friend of mine I mentioned before,” Muriel grinned sadly.


	4. Chapter 4

_ “You can stay.” _

_ He knew he should leave her room. Now. Immediately. He knew it and almost turned to the door. But… _

_ “This room doesn’t look very secure.” _

_ He watched her cast a spell on the window, and then approached it unexpectedly for himself – to touch, to feel this light, weightless magic of hers. And then she touched his hand, and began to talk about how they would deal with this mess – _ ** _together_ ** _ , and he almost believed her. Almost forgot, _ ** _who_ ** _ he was. _

He failed in talking her out. The stubborn, unbearable girl whirled through his hut, scattering the furs, breaking the cup and throwing carvings into her bag, giving the impression of a hasty gathering. And then she grabbed his hand and tugged him to the night forest, like he was a child, who she decided to defend.

“I can handle myself.”

“I can run away.”

“I’m nothing but a problem.”

“Asra can help me.”

Nothing.

It seemed, Lynn just didn’t hear him: she still tugged him stubbornly, and though he could break free – she was much weaker than him, after all – he followed her obediently. And when they barely stumbled upon the guards armed to the teeth, who were pushing through the thicket with a noise, she hissed barely audibly: "I told you."

They reached her house through the dark and empty streets, and it turned out to be small, with a magical goods store on the ground floor. She tugged him inward, and he, not having calculated, first hit his head on the lintel, and then, turning awkwardly, dropped some bottles from the showcase.

“I should leave.”

“Don’t you tired of it?”, she asked, lowering the dense curtains and setting a fire in the fireplace with one movement of her hand. “You should go to sleep, it was… pretty busy today.”

“Inanna…”

“She will be fine. You said outsiders won’t find the cave. I’ll buy some meat for her tomorrow and bring it to her.”

Lynn rubbed her face tiredly.

“It will be ok. I still need to return to the palace and tell Lucio that I didn’t find you. Hopefully I will be able to find Asra there. What does he do there?”

“I don’t know.”

Lynn shrugged and pushed him to the narrow staircase leading to the upper floor. And when he entered the room, he saw a bed. One bed. The big double bed, but _ the one _ damned bed.

“Well, sorry?”, she spread her hands, seeing the expression on his face. “I didn’t think that I would have to hide escaped gladiators.”

“I… I will go. This was a stupid idea.”

Just how can she move so fast? She was just standing by the bed, and already - instantly! - appeared at the door.

“You need to stay here for a couple of days. A few days. Not for a month, not for a year, not for life. Do you understand?”

He stood opposite of her and looked at her – she was so stubborn… like a donkey. Lifted chin, clenched hands – why did she even decide to protect him? As if _ he _ meant something. As if he were _ a worthy _ person to protect.

“Why?”

* * *

_ "Muriel! Muriel, wake up, it’s ok!” _

_ Through his dream he felt her little palm on his shoulder, he heard her flurried whisper, and the next moment he jumped, huddled in the corner, trying to get away from her as far as possible. _

_ “What are you doing? I could have hurt you!” _

_ “But you didn’t. I’m not scared of you, Muriel.” _

She understood what was his question was about. She shrugged, took his hand – flinched herself when _ he _ twitched – and sat on the bed, pulling him along. So that he couldn’t run away, he guessed.

“Who do you think would have killed my parents?”

Muriel twitched his head bewilderedly – somehow her question was unexpected.

“How would Lucio know who killed my parents?”

“Do you think it’s him?” Muriel asked.

“Tell me he wouldn’t.”

Muriel snorted. Lucio burned the cities, he destroyed everything in his path, and there was _ nothing _ he couldn’t do.

“I was here,” she said and Muriel frowned uncomprehending. “Here, in Vesuvia. My parents sent me here, to my aunt, because… I don’t know, they said something about the weather, and that it was not going to be for long, I don’t remember exactly. I was five, I think. And then my aunt got a letter and said that they were gone. I don’t know whether Lucio killed them and why he did this, if he _ did _, but how, goddammit, did he know about it?”

“He fought on the South,” Muriel said. “I would be expecting him to have slaughtered all the villages”.

“I don’t know what happened to the others,” Lynn said. “And I don’t know what to think about it. But _ yet _ I think that I don’t want to give you to _ such _ a person.“

“You don’t have to. I can hide in the forest.”

“He will be looking for you right there.”

She stood up off the bed and pulled on her hand – he realized just then that he still held her warm little palm in his, rough and calloused. He opened his fingers, and Lynn went to the head of the bed, starting to make the bed.

“If I put on an act correctly, he will believe that I hate you and that I am very, very sorry that you weren’t at home.”

“It’s dangerous. It’s foolish to take a risk because of _ me _”.

She sighed and turned to him, resting her hands on her hips. Even in the dark he noticed her eyes flashed.

“Can’t you finally understand? Even if you run away, I will have to return to the palace. I will have to put on an act before Lucio, otherwise he will find out that I found you – and let you go. But if you run away and he finds you, he won’t leave you alone. I don’t think he would kill you after all that happened, he would just…”

“He will just make me kill everyone.”

“Well, I don’t know how about everyone, but you get the point,” she grunted. “I assume the decision is done. Now, go to bed.”

He didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. Weariness piled on him too abruptly, and he even thought that she casted a spell on him – maybe she did, who could know? When he laid down and moved as far as possible, barely trying to breath, he felt his cheeks and ears burning. And it seemed Lynn saw it – she snorted, climbing under the blanket, and then turned her back to him and fell silent on the other end of the bed.

He often had this nightmare – the Coliseum, bloodied Asra, the triumphant Lucio and he, Muriel, standing over his still living friend with an axe in his hands. Sometimes there were changes: sometimes Lucio made him brutalize Asra, torturing him, killing him slowly and cruelly, and Muriel, being in the power of that nightmare, couldn’t help but obey.

“You were a bad servant,” Lucio said to him. “You will repay your escape. You will chop off Asra's arms and legs by yourself. And then maybe his head, if I like.”

Muriel hated him. He stood so close that he could try to reach out, and here he was, a man who embodied in himself the most disgusting things in the world.

“Muriel.”

He shut his eyes and shook his head. _ Don’t listen to Lucio _. He couldn’t kill Asra, he had already made so many mistakes…

“Muriel.”

“I won’t!”

“Muriel!”

Lucio grabbed his shoulders and began to shake him, and then Muriel _ could _ – to grab his hands, to squeeze them tight, to push him away… And then he realized that he woke up. And that the hands he squeezing belonged to a disheveled, sleepy, worried Lynn.

He let her go abruptly – perhaps too abruptly, so that she almost fell out of bed - jumped up, tangled in a blanket, and turned to face the door. _ “Run, leave, disappear for good” _ , pounded in his head. Again. Again! He hurt her again, he is dangerous for her – and for everyone else, he really is a beast, he must be alone, forever. He must run, anywhere, far from people, far from _ her _, far from…

Warm fingers squeezed his wrist and he twitched, jumped to the window, and she almost fell off the bed again, leaning on her free hand in time, but she didn’t open her fingers clenched around his hand.

“Let me go.”

He stopped himself, scared of his own voice – it sounded like something between a roar, a moan and a wheeze.

“No.”

She got off the bed and stood next to him, still not letting go of his hand. She raised her head, and he felt shame and self-hatred again – she was so small, just above his elbow, and he had hurt her several times in just one day.

She looked at him – seriously, sternly and understandingly. There was no fear in her eyes, and he could not understand why.

“Stop it,” she said. “It isn’t your fault that you have nightmares. It isn’t your fault that you are angry. I _ am _ a healer, Muriel, and a couple of bruises isn’t something that is worth worrying about right now.”

“I _ did _ hurt you. I _ will _ hurt you again. That’s all I can do.”

“You are on edge. You aren’t used to dealing with people. When you become more calm, everything will be better, you’ll see.”

“No,” he said and finally pulled his hand out of her tenacious fingers. “This is who I am. I can only kill, I can only hurt, that’s all I can do. _ This _ is me. Let me go.”

“You will stay here. You will wait for Asra. And then we’ll decide how to help you. Together.”

“I don’t need any help! I need to stay alone!”

Muriel managed to think that it was a good thing that she closed the windows because his voice - almost a scream - would probably have been heard on the street. And then he looked at Lynn and realized that now she was really angry. He saw it in her narrowed eyes, in her clenched teeth, by the way she grabbed her blanket.

“Fine!”, she said through set teeth. “You will stay alone. Here. But if you think that I will let you leave this house, you are mistaken. I have never seen a person who needs help more than you do.”

She left the room, slamming the door before he could answer.


	5. Chapter 5

_ “We shouldn’t be here.” _

_ He felt Lucio in this cave. And so did she. A moment before she squared her shoulders and stepped into the darkness, he saw the very flash of obstinacy in her eyes. _

_ “We can’t leave. Just stay behind me, alright?” _

_ “He’ll crush you.” _

_ “No. We can’t let him win. If we have a chance to stop him, we have to take it.” _

_ Her voice sounded so confident, so calm –  _ ** _too_ ** _ confident and calm. She was afraid. And he – he was afraid as well. He could give up, wait for her outside, or even grab her and never let go. But he stepped into the darkness after her and reached for her warm palm. _

_ “I won’t let you go in there alone.” _

Of course, Lucio believed her. Of course, she found Asra. Muriel was not even surprised: during the time that they spent together, he managed to understand that the basis of her character is absolute, sheer stubbornness and obstinacy. And if she decided that Lucio must believe her, he would have believed her, even if she had danced in front of him in a fancy dress. And sure she could have searched the whole palace to find Asra.

And now they were sitting in a small room behind the store, drinking tea and kept silent. Asra kept thinking, tousling his fluffy curls, Lynn thoughtfully twisted a cup of fragrant tea, and Muriel just tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, to move as far as possible – it seemed to him that even the slightest touch at her snow-white skin would leave crimson bruises on it.

“I’ve got it!”, Asra lifted his head and waved his hand victoriously. “I’ve got it!”

Lynn looked at him silently, raising her eyebrows, and Muriel held his breath. Really?

“I can cast a spell on Muriel,” Asra said looking at Lynn. “I told you about it, do you remember? Forget-me-spell it is.”

She nodded slowly and squinted.

“Will it help? Will it make him forget?” Muriel couldn’t restrain himself.

“Yes.”

“Not really,” said Lynn simultaneously with Asra. “You know it won’t stay for long. You will need to cast it all over again.”

“There is no other way. Yet,” Asra said and shrugged. “It’s quite a simple spell and I decided to leave the palace anyways. I think Lucio will do without my services, since he can do without Muriel. I will live with Muriel until we find another spell or something.”

“It could work,” she agreed.

“Then I can go,” said Muriel, awkwardly rising from the round table. “As Asra cast this spell on me, I can go home.”

“I’ve always thought that this place is cozy,” Asra grinned and rose after Muriel. “And you are in such a hurry to go home, as if this is not the cutest store in Vesuvia, but the Coliseum.”

“I need to be alone,” said Muriel, shivering at the mention of the Coliseum.

“You should make an influence on him,” Lynn said tiredly to Asra. Muriel saw that he smiled at her and then bent down to kiss her on the tip of her nose. So are they… not just friends?

“You already realized how stubborn he is, didn’t you?”, he answered. “Almost as stubborn as you are.”

Asra put his hands on Muriel’s back and he felt the magic enveloping him like a cold mountain stream.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Asra nodded. “We can go if you didn’t change your mind.”

Muriel felt that Asra wants to stay and couldn’t blame him – there was really cozy here. Calm. He remembered he heard tinkling this morning – he didn’t have time to get to the kitchen when Lynn came out to meet him: she was tired, under her eyes there were shadows, and there was a teapot with fragrant tea in her hands. She smiled at him, and he remembered just then why she looked so tired – it was  _ he _ who didn’t let her sleep well. It was  _ he _ who pulled her into this mess. It was  _ he _ who hurt her.

“I didn't,” he muttered, and, already leaving her house, turned his head and said barely audibly: “Thank you.”

Staying on the street he heard her giggling.

“Anytime.”


	6. Chapter 6

_ “I don’t care. I’ll be a coward, if it means Lynn doesn’t die.” _

_ “Muriel…” _

_ He shook his head, trying to escape her understanding, sympathetic gaze. _

_ “We’ll keep each other safe.” _

_ Stubborn… like a donkey. He really wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t forget his past. Every time she took his hand, he remembered dark bruises on her wrists. Every time she pushed back her hair or lifted her hands, he saw a thin scar running down to the elbow, and he remembered her lying in the dust and sand with the bloodied back. _

_ “I don’t know how to protect anyone! I just know how to kill!” _

He didn’t know why Asra didn’t tell him about Lynn. He brushed aside him, told him that there was nothing to tell of, they were just friends and nothing more – but Muriel noticed that Asra began to visit the city more and more; he became more thoughtful, looking at the fire in the fireplace, and his face became quite soft, dreamy, and his eyes glowed a special way somehow.

Lynn herself came to his hut, too, and he didn’t understand why. When Asra was there, they sat at the table drinking tea and talking – precisely, it was Asra and Lynn who talked, and Muriel just moved to the far corner and withdrew into himself. When Asra was out, and she came, Muriel didn’t want to let her in (what if he hurt her again?), so he left his hut, feeding the chickens, chopping wood, and she sat nearby, occasionally breaking the awkward silence with questions or meaningless phrases.

“You shouldn’t come here,” he said to her one day.

“Why?”

He was silent. What could he say? Because he was afraid of hurting her? Because he still feels that rage sometimes? Because she makes him angry talking to him like he is an ordinary,  _ decent _ person? Because Asra seems to forget about the rest of the world while speaking to her? Because  _ this _ makes him feel angry too? Because  _ this _ makes him feel jealous?

“I don’t need your help anymore. There’s nothing for you to do here.”

She was bewildered, he saw it in her eyes – green like a young spring grass. Bewildered, surprised, offended eyes – just stop, stop, stop looking at me like that!

“I thought we were… friends.”

“No.”

Minute silence.

“I don’t need any friends. And you are…. Not welcome here.”

He barely forced out the last words. And then he just watched as she walked away, and he hated and despised himself even more than usual.

And then the Devil dreamed to him and offered him a bargain.

* * *

Once he saw her in the city. Lynn examined a booth with the dried herbs, and he – once again – checked whether the Devil had kept his word. Asra told him that there wasn’t any other option, that the Arcana always kept their words, but… Muriel didn’t know if he could believe it. The seal still worked, though, and it seemed all of the city forgot about him, not only Lucio. And Muriel was glad with it, he was glad, really, until he saw her fingering bunches of herbs.

He froze looking at her hands, and she, feeling his gaze, turned to him. Smiled politely. Lifted her eyebrows a little. And asked:

“Can I help you?”

Muriel shook his head and turned into the nearest backstreet. She must forget about him immediately, and that’s… good. That  _ must _ be good, isn’t it?

* * *

When Asra decided to show her Nopal, Muriel wasn’t surprised. He felt that Asra loved her, and loved much more than he could and wanted to admit. It seemed to him that she was taking away his only friend – that she avenged for his last words, unconsciously, not knowing that. And though Asra spread his arms, laughed frigidly and told that she seemed to see him almost a brother, Muriel was angry anyways.

Asra returned upset, although he tried to hide it. He habitually threw his bag on the bed, habitually zoomed the chair from the far corner, then he sat down, stretched out his legs and leaned back.

“Didn’t she like Nopal?”

Asra shook his head and snorted.

“She said there was too much desert there and that she missed the forest. Also it was too hot there and… Yeah, she didn’t like Nopal.”

Muriel grunted and said nothing. He wouldn’t like it either – he didn’t like the summer in Vesuvia, and it was much hotter in the Nopal.

“Why don't we come up with something that would help people remember you?”, Asra offered, and Muriel flinched in surprise.

“Why?”

“You miss her, don’t you?”

“I-I… No. Not at all.”

“Then why do we constantly find ourselves near her store when we go to the city?” Asra asked and Muriel noticed mischievous flash in his eyes.

“It’s you who longing to the store,” Muriel said and got up from the table. “That’s enough, it’s late, let’s sleep.”

But then, making himself more comfortably on the floor, he barely audibly added:

“Besides, you said it is impossible to break the contract with the Arkana.”

Asra said nothing, but Muriel heard him laughing – it was very-very quiet laughing.

It took Asra quite a while to find something that would help  _ people _ , as he said, remember Muriel. They didn’t understand why he didn’t forget him himself, - maybe because of their friendship, or maybe because myrrh, which helped to  _ remember _ , was always in Muriel’s hut and in Asra’s bag. Myrrh. So simple, so elementary – and for so long he could not connect it with Muriel.

Muriel shrugged, grumbled, said that he wasn’t interested if it works, but he knew in his heart of hearts that he was… afraid. That it would work, that Lynn would remember him – and all he had done, and all he had said, and that he would see contempt in her glare. Or it won’t be any contempt – and then he will hurt her again, because there is no other option.  _ He will hurt her again _ . So… maybe she doesn’t need to remember. Maybe it will be better this way.

It  _ must _ be better this way.

He said that to Asra every day, but he kept up. And when Muriel almost agreed to experience myrrh, the plague came.


	7. Chapter 7

_ “I don’t want to hurt you.” _

_ “I don’t want to hurt you either. Do you remember me saying that already?” _

_ In his hut, while healing his wounds, yes. Ages ago. _

_ “It’s not about me. It’s never… I don’t matter.” _

_ “Don’t say so. Of course you do.” _

_ Warm palm. Sad eyes the color of the young spring grass. Silent, barely audible whisper. _

_ “I trust you, Muriel.” _

_ Blood on the sand. Bruises on the wrists. “You are not welcome here.” _

_ “I don’t trust myself. I know how it ends – you, bloody at my feet, just like everyone else! Like… Like…” _

** _Like the last time_ ** _ . _

_ He must leave. Before it’s too late, before he ruins everything again, before he believes that he could live a normal life, that she really could feel something for him. He tried to pull his hand out of her fingers and met her gaze. _

_ Frightened eyes the color of young spring grass. Warm palm. _

_ Soft lips. _

_ And the world around him has stopped. _

Asra tried to find a way to revive her, to get her back, and Muriel thought that he’s only torturing himself and him as well. He almost hated her for what had become of his once merry friend – he almost stopped to eat and sleep, he returned to the palace and Muriel didn’t meet him for a long time. And then Asra burst into his hut and, panting, blurted out that he knew  _ what _ to do. He tried to dissuade him – by God, he did all he could. He tried to explain that it wouldn’t be her – Muriel didn’t believe that one could return from the dead and still remain the same. She didn’t have a body, all that was left of her was only bones and ashes, and how, good heavens, may this become the same Lynn as she was before the plague?

“Anything is possible,” Asra said to him. “If you are willing to pay the price.”

Muriel couldn’t imagine what would happen to Asra after the bargain. What would happen to Lynn. He expected the worst, and when Asra burst into his hut after the bargain was deed, he thought that his worst fears had come true.

“She doesn’t remember. Anything. She doesn’t remember anything at all, Muriel, she doesn't even know how to talk!”

* * *

_ “It was always easier to run away.” _

_ “It was always easier to give up.” _

_ “To live alone.” _

_ “No one asked anything.” _

_ “No one expected anything.” _

_ “It was peaceful.” _

_ “Then you showed up and I realized…” _

_ “There could be more. Maybe.” _

_ “May  _ ** _be._ ** _ ” _

Asra moved to her house. Sometimes Muriel saw them on the streets – her pale face, blond hair, bewildered and surprised green eyes. She had the same face, the same figure, the same eyes, but something had changed in her – subtly, elusively. She learned to walk again, learned to talk again, learned to live for real, and Muriel thought that if they would remember him, if he could become decent man, if not for this load that pressed on his shoulders, then he, probably, would do the same – would learn how to walk, and talk, and  _ live _ .

She re-acquainted with Vesuvia, studied magic and didn’t even imagined that somewhere in the forest, in his hut,  _ which now so often seems empty _ , lived  _ he _ , Muriel, forgotten by the whole world. And he got used to thinking that it would be better. That’s good. Let her live her life, let her laughing at the Asra’s jokes… let her falling in love with him.

And then she ended up in the forest, in front of him, and stubbornness, confusion and surprise were mixed in her wide eyes. He tried to drive her away, tried not to react to her, but…

“You need help. And I can help you.”

And he needed help.

And he needed her.

Very

Much.


End file.
